


Weight on her shoulders

by Quantum_Overload



Series: Overload Archives [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Overload/pseuds/Quantum_Overload
Summary: She felt as if a numb weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and tensed. An uncomfortable pain stretched across and down her shoulder blades, the full weight of the burden she had been bearing dawned on her.Or, Siana tells a story, but there's more going on than what meets the eye.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Overload Archives [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089068





	Weight on her shoulders

She felt as if a numb weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and tensed. An uncomfortable pain stretched across and down her shoulder blades, the full weight of the burden she had been bearing dawned on her. She rolled her shoulders, arched her back, then shuffled into a position that straightened her posture and allowed her back to rest comfortably against the back of the couch. Despite the reprieve, despite the feeling that the weight of the world had finally been lifted off her shoulders, despite all the relief, her body still ached and pained-but that was good, that was good. However, the pain and tension weren't from the metaphorical weight, nor from the prospect of the possible reactions we might have but from...well...

The tears that had been streaming down her face had long since run dry. Not from a lack of fluids as she hadn't cried once since she had started talking; despite the horror of her tale. There hadn't been many tears that morning, to begin with, and the way she told the story itself was rather bare; bemused and nonchalant even. But still, she wiped her face on her sleeve if only to distract her from her thoughts, or to distract us from her disassociated state.

Only, if she was not distraught by the trials of her life as evidenced by her joking references, her blase attitude and poignant recounting as opposed to the generally observed way those who were abused and without psychiatric help talk in these situations, what was she crying about? I asked as such. She smiled. Not her sadistic smile. Not one of her terrifying smiles. Not a forced, or sad, or hollow smile. But a genuine, soft, shining, smile. A smile that could say a thousand words incorporating a technique she had learned from Mikes, but in this instance said something so chilling.

'I knew you would notice. I was expecting that.'

I had fallen into a trap. Not in any way malicious, like so many I had stumbled into before, but it was the most terrifying. Especially when accompanied by that killer smile.


End file.
